


The Holmes Brothers

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), BAMF Mycroft, BAMF Sherlock, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Gen, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Sherlock drives Mycroft to prayer, We swear it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock appears with a warning. Mycroft obliges, and thankfully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holmes Brothers

“He’s in trouble. The redheaded one,” came the whisper, fading into Sherlock’s drug addled mind. 

Sherlock focused in on the needle, slowly sinking into his skin, slowly spreading through his veins, only to pause. “Who?”

“The redheaded one. You say to watch him, so I do. There’s something going on, strange people, strange movements. No one watches old lady, no one sees me. I sit and I wait. And I see everyone.” 

Sherlock depressed the plunger, then pulled the needle out, breaking it in half and standing, swaying. “Good, Ava.”

He tossed her the small baggy in his pocket. “Don’t need this,” he muttered, and shook his head, mind clearing, speeding as the drugs ran through his veins. Mycroft’s in trouble.

**

Mycroft was working in his office. He was still climbing his way up, but he had his fingers in a lot of pies. Soon enough he'd have his ambitions. But it was growing late and he was tired. Sighing, he closed everything down and locked it up. 

Gathering his coat and umbrella, Mycroft went out his office door and locked it too. Something caught his eye in the shadows. “Sherlock?”

“You’re in trouble,” Sherlock said hoarsely, bags under his eyes, collarbones practically jutting out. 

“Sherlock you're high.” Mycroft bit back a sigh and reached for him. “You're being paranoid.”

“It’s not me,” Sherlock said, pulling his hand away. “My network. There are people watching you that shouldn’t be. I am high, Mycroft, but I’m not stupid.”

“Then we best get home. Let's go to yours.”

“We can’t,” Sherlock said. “I’ve been evicted.” 

“Again? Okay. Then we’ll get a room for the night.” Mycroft was already walking towards the door out. 

“Don’t!” Sherlock hissed, grabbing his arm. “Not the front.” 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Even high, Sherlock wasn't usually this insistent. “This way, then. How did you get in?”

“The roof,” Sherlock replied, tugging on him, leading him to the stairs. “Come along, Mycroft.” 

Mycroft followed, feeling that he should trust his brother’s instincts. At least this once. 

Sherlock kept pausing, waiting to hear shouts, footsteps in pursuit, avoiding Mycroft’s gaze.

They reached the roof, and this time it was Mycroft's instincts that proved better as he shoved Sherlock down a moment before a shot rang out. 

“See?” Sherlock hissed, scrambling under cover. 

“Indeed.” He opened his umbrella for more protection and took his gun out of his suit. 

“Doesn't that ruin the line of your suit?” Sherlock drawled. 

“Not if it's made for it.”

“Well put it away and let's go,” Sherlock said, “before they follow us up here.” 

“This way. Stay close, brother mine.”

“You're going the way they expect you too,” Sherlock said. “Don't.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

“The way I came,” Sherlock said, and then darted forward, toward the gunman. 

Mycroft chased after him, staying close. 

Sherlock paused, and then lunged, taking the gunman in the corner of the roof by surprise, grabbing the gun and slamming the barrel into his forehead, knocking him from the roof. 

Mycroft grabbed Sherlock’s arm, leaping onto an adjacent roof. 

Sherlock began to laugh, high and breathless, running alongside him. “You've never seen London like this, have you Mycroft? This is my palace! This is how I rule, everyone, all of them,” he said, stumbling as he gestured far below. “They're so simple. Their tiny brains.” 

“Not the first time I've used them no, but I suspect you're more familiar.” Mycroft was surprised by the delight. 

“I could live up here! I could live and die and fly, Mycroft.” Sherlock jumped, landing on the next building with a swirl of his coat, a hail of gunfire following them, too far away to be effective. 

“This way Sherlock, there's a safe house.”

Sherlock groaned, following him. “Nothing is safe. Everything fails in the end.” 

“Maybe so. But thank you for the warning.”

“I'm not going in with you.” 

Mycroft frowned. “Why not?”

“I'm simply not.” 

“At least you could sleep somewhere warm.”

“Sleeping is boring. I don't sleep Mycroft, I never have.” 

Mycroft sighed. “Call me if you need anything.”

“No,” Sherlock replied and then dropped onto a fire escape, disappearing into the alleys once more. 

Saying a silent prayer, Mycroft went the other way towards the safe house, hoping he'd see his brother again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)!


End file.
